Vengeance

  But Herman was also evil. I clearly remembered him being the ringleader homecoming night. He thought that shit was funny and cute. Now I was going to show him how you could be trudging along in life, with everything seemingly golden one minute, and then a single incident could change it forever.

  Herman’s first consultation patient after lunch on this particular Monday was Louis Abbey—real name—a fifty-two-year-old Caucasian man who was complaining of back pain. Louis Abbey was about to do both of us a huge favor. It took me a minute to find the perfect person for what I had in mind. He and I had never spoken personally. In fact, I had put up a Chinese wall between us. An insurmountable barrier, especially to the passage of information and communication. I had utilized a business associate who I knew I could trust—because he loved money and knew that the better job he did, the more I would come back to him—to initiate the process. It trickled down to at least five or six more people before someone approached Louis with the plan.

  Louis was a recovered drug addict but still had a serious gambling problem. He would often leave his wife at home alone, even though their four kids were grown, and head to Cherokee, North Carolina, to try his luck at Harrah’s. He was never lucky, and the decent wage that he made working construction was quickly swallowed up upon his arrival. His wife, Ivy, was on depression medication at that point, struggling to believe that the man who had once promised to love and protect her was now putting their home and hopes of retirement at risk. Ivy was a schoolteacher, and everything had started to affect her ability to deal with the students. I only knew all of this because I had them both watched carefully before I pulled the final trigger on Plan B. I needed to make sure that Louis would not cave under pressure when the proverbial shit hit the fan. The only concern that I had was whether he had shared what he was about to do with his wife. From what I had heard, unlike her husband, she had morals, and sometimes people with morals thought it was better to do what was right instead of doing what was easy. Either way, her life was about to change, and I hoped she could handle it. No one was forcing her husband to participate. He had been paid well and would be paid again after he filed a multimillion-dollar lawsuit against Herman.

  Obviously, I wasn’t there in the office that day, or in the exam room, but things must have gone as planned. By the next morning, Herman’s face and name were plastered all over both the news and Internet. It was a breaking news item about a prominent Atlanta orthopedic surgeon who had been accused of sexually molesting another man during a consultation. The fact that Herman was black and Louis was white meant the racist media outlets went on the warpath, digging deeper into Herman’s business, interviewing staff, friends, neighbors, and other patients. It was a chance for several people to get fifteen minutes of fame that they never would’ve gotten otherwise. I was banking on that and it paid off in a serious way less than a week later.

  Opportunists will always embrace an opportunity. There is an old proverb that goes: “Dear Optimist, Pessimist, and Realist: Thank you. While you guys were arguing about the glass of water, I drank it. —The Opportunist.”

  I did not know the number who would come marching, but I was convinced they would come and boy, did they. At last count, there were at least eight other patients, both male and female, who claimed that Herman had done something to them when there was no nurse present in the examination room. Then one of the nurses decided to hop on the gravy train and accused him of sexually harassing her for years.

  Herman was arrested, charged, and his bail was set at a million dollars. He was looking at hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees for the criminal charges alone. Then there would be all the civil suits. People claiming that he had destroyed them, and Louis would be leading the pack. He had already been set up with an attorney to file his case before he ever stepped a toe in Herman’s office. He would be the main plaintiff in a class-action lawsuit and the attorney, also acquired via a Chinese wall, would have a slate of clients that he would make a third off of and, like most class-action cases, he would walk away with more wealth than all the rest. It was a win-win for everyone except for Herman . . . and Bianca.

  For a second, I almost felt like I had gone too far. Then I came to the conclusion, “Fuck nah!”

  PART FOUR:

  THE BRIDGE

  Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.

  —Mark Twain

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tuesday, September 18, 2012

  2:37 p.m.

  35,000 Feet Over the Atlantic Ocean

  I couldn’t believe that I was actually doing what I was doing.

  “How does it feel to be forty?”

  Jonovan was sitting beside me on my private jet. We were both sunk into the tan leather seats, sharing a bottle of Duhart-Milon red Bordeaux.

  “Honestly, it doesn’t feel any different, other than realizing that my life is probably at least halfway over at this point.”

  “That’s a dismal way to look at it. I have a few more months before I hit the hill, but I’m actually kind of excited about it.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Maybe females embrace age differently than men. While it may seem like you are not what you used to be, I’m simply glad that I’m not a used to be. Make sense?”

  I analyzed what he said. “Maybe I’m drunk but no, it doesn’t make sense to me.”

  He leaned up in his seat. “I’m glad to still be alive. A black man in society, past or present, considers it a blessing to live forty years. They’re so many things working against us.”

  “I agree with that to a degree, but I also see a lot of black men using that single fact as an excuse. Yes, racism is still alive and there are clear-cut and obvious disadvantages, but there are also a lot of advantages that did not exist before. A lot of people are still under the impression that more black men are in prison than in college, and that’s not accurate.”

  “True enough, but there is definitely a disproportionate amount in prison, and in the graveyard.”

  “Don’t get me wrong; we live in a very sick and depraved world. But even with what I’ve been through, I’d still like to believe that most people are good and simply trying to do what they can with their dash.”

  “Their dash?”

  “The time between the day they are born and the day they die; what’s reflected on their tombstones.”

  “You’re a deep woman.”

  Jonovan and I grinned at each other.

  “Thanks for inviting me to share your birthday with you. I must admit that you took me by surprise.”

  “I took myself by surprise!” I finished off my glass of wine. “It’s so out of character for me. I’m not sure what came over me.”

  “Whatever it was, I hope the trend continues.”

  I blushed. “I even left my assistant and bodyguards at home, so we could get to know each other better.”

  Being alone with Jonovan had not been an easy thing to pull off. I’d had to pull another fast one. If I ever needed to find another career, I would’ve made one hell of a spy. I was a fantastic liar, and conniving and manipulation could’ve been my middle names. I’d convinced KAD that since we were going to Daddy’s private island off the coast of Norway, the armed guards there would be sufficient to protect me. They were there around the clock to protect the property itself. I told Daddy that KAD was going and was hoping he didn’t try to verify it. There was no reason for him to think I was lying, and the staff on the island had no reason to blow the whistle. I had learned that most people get caught doing things because they act guilty. They overthink every word that comes out of their mouths and overreact to the point where people get suspicious. Some people even overanalyze the fact that they overanalyze. It wasn’t that serious in my case. Worst-case scenario would have been reminding everyone that I was grown and needed my space.

  “I still feel like we have crossed paths before.”

  ??
?Another time, another place. Maybe in a prior life, but it most certainly wasn’t in this one,” I lied. “Like I told you before, I’ve never met a stranger.”

  “You keep referring to that, but you seem like a recluse.”

  “Since you cover a lot of people in the entertainment field, that should be self-explanatory. Most creativity happens in solitary confinement and most celebrities can’t trust anybody.”

  He chuckled. “You have a point.”

  “It’s a fact. Some people amaze me. If they put as much effort into being a good person as they do pretending to be a good person, they’d actually be a good person.”

  “Never thought of it that way, but you have yet another point.”

  The pilot’s voice came over the cabin speakers: “Ms. Wicket, we are beginning our descent and should be landing within the next twenty minutes.”

  I’d decided not to bring a flight attendant with us, either. Even if I had banished her to the back of the plane, she may have still been able to overhear us.

  “I’ve never been to Norway,” Jonovan said. “I heard it’s lovely.”

  “We won’t be around a lot of other people, just the staff, but the island itself is breathtaking. Plus, it’s still summer solstice.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That you can see the sun around the clock, even at midnight.”

  “Wow, like in Alaska?”

  “Yeah. You’ve been there?”

  “Nope, never. It’s going to be so strange to see the sun at night.”

  “It’s strange and then there are the times of the year when it’s polar night and it is dark throughout the day . . . like in some of those horror movies.”

  “Those things are about to play out. They put one of those out at least once every other year.”

  I giggled. “You sound like you know that because you’ve seen them.”

  Jonovan tried to suppress a laugh, but he couldn’t. “Okay, okay, I confess. I have a thing for cheesy movies and bad horror flicks. Sometimes watching other people make stupid choices, or die with the benefit of special effects, can make the time go by.”

  “Speaking of making the time go by, how are things going with the woman you’re dating?”

  The grin disappeared off Jonovan’s face. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I was in a serious relationship. I’m not that kind of man.”

  “Who said I’m trying to get with you romantically?” My low self-esteem was about to jump out the closet like a skeleton. “Don’t assume that I asked you to come with me because I want to have sex. I’m not that easy.”

  He had no idea! My hairbrush had a better shot than he did of getting into my panties!

  “That’s where you’re mistaken about me. I can get sex anywhere, and I realize that a woman like you is not going to be down for games. You asked me to come and spend your birthday with you on a private island, and while I am hoping that we can sneak in a romantic moment here or there because of the surroundings, I don’t have any expectations of this going anywhere. Dating someone doesn’t mean that I’m having sex with them, and the woman you saw me with is not the only one who I spend time with.”

  That made me even more upset, even though I am sure his intentions were the opposite. He realized it and tried to make it sound better.

  “That’s not to say that I have a romantic interest in any of them. It means that I’m a man who is still waiting for that special person to settle down with. I can’t find her without exploring the possibilities.”

  “There’s that term: ‘settle down.’ Why do men make it seem like they are walking into the gallows when it comes to being with one woman?”

  “My father said it best one day when he was talking to me and some of my friends in college. He said that most men don’t have an issue with saying yes to one woman. They have an issue with saying no to all their other options.”

  “Is that your philosophy?” I asked with a smirk. “You’re keeping your options open?”

  “You make it sound like a criminal act. People should take their time to find the person who complements them in every aspect of their lives instead of trying to pretend like the differences won’t matter in the long run. Women tend to fall quick and hard and then wake up one day and realize that they have nothing in common with the man lying next to them, except for great sex.”

  “I’ll give you an amen on that and add in a high five and a foot stomp with it. There are a lot of transformers running amuck on the dating scene. I hear the stories about bitch-assness and fuckery all the time.”

  “Not bitch-assness and fuckery?”

  “Yes, that’s the typical behavior of community dick and water cooler dick men.”

  “You are hilarious.” Jonovan poured himself some more wine. “You’re definitely going to have to break those terms down for me.”

  “No hay problema but no es bueno.”

  “Let me find out that you speak Spanish?”

  “A little. Enough to know what the hell people are talking about when I’m touring. I also know enough French, German, Italian, and Japanese to get by.”

  “So what did you just say?”

  “I said no hay problema, which means no problem, and no es bueno, which means it is not good.”

  “Gotcha!”

  “So bitch-ass behavior is when a man acts effeminate, like a little bitch, when it comes to handling his responsibilities as a man. Throwing tantrums, trying to place the blame on the woman for their own spineless behavior, and running away instead of staying and facing the music when the shit hits the fan.”

  “Okay, that was enlightening. What is fuckery?”

  “Fuckery is when every day begins and ends in drama because a man can’t keep a dick in his pants. Instead of just staying single and doing him, he has to string a bunch of women along, pit them against one another like two dogs in a fight, and he causes a bunch of confusion and ruins several lives simultaneously, sometimes the lives of their own children. The men who think they’re setting a good example for their kids by seeing their mothers crying themselves to sleep each night, with or without bruises, and then falling in way over in the morning in time to share a bowl of sugar-laden cereal with them before they leave for school, stressed out and angry.”

  “Wow, you sure have a low opinion of men!”

  “Not all men, but you asked me to explain the terminology, so I am. You want me to stop?”

  “No, but let me get some more wine.” Jonovan downed that glass and poured another as I went on.

  “Now the difference between community dick and water cooler dick is rather simple. Community dick is a man who sleeps with a bunch of women in the same vicinity, or a group of women within the same social circle. Like Leon blowing out Amy’s back in the morning and blowing out Marigold’s back that night.”

  “Marigold?” Jonovan laughed. “So community dick would be a dude who’s sleeping with two best friends?”

  “Or cousins, or sisters. Possibly even a mother and daughter combo.” I poured some more wine as well. I was tipsy, so I was talking mad shit at that point. “Water cooler dick is a man who, like the name implies, is fucking a lot of broads at his place of employment. Let me backtrack for a hot minute and add that most community dicks don’t have jobs. Their careers are making dozens of babies, claiming only some of them, and hitting up their various women for money.”

  “Hmm, okay.”

  “Now water cooler dick has chicks all confused. Their first mistake is lusting after people at work. The men have it made because the fact that they work together gives them a legitimate reason to keep their sexcapades on the down low. They convince each and every one of them that they are the one, but they’re full of so much bullshit in their colons that it’s amazing that it’s not trickling out their mouths when they speak.”

  “This is fascinating,” Jonovan said with much sarcasm. “You’re funny.”

  “The drunk mind speaks the sober heart.”

  “So I
’ve heard.”

  “The women who are sexing the same man in the workplace end up dealing with foolishness while clocking dollars and sometimes end up scrapping in the lunchroom over the man while he is in the broom closet eating another chick’s snatch for lunch.”

  “Damn, the visual on that one!”

  “I’m sure you’ve seen it all,” I said with a giggle. “But you get my point.”

  “Yes, and thanks for breaking that down for me. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why do you hate men?”

  “I don’t hate men, but I do understand them. I believe that most men are capable of love. However, I don’t believe they understand the parameters of being in love. They’re given a blueprint for excuses to justify their actions, but is there ever truly a justification for damaging someone else’s spirit? And just because a woman accepts their behavior and lets them get away with it, that doesn’t make it right. A woman’s ability to accept pain doesn’t mean that she deserves it.”

  “I really like you,” Jonovan blurted out. “I enjoy listening to you speak, and watching your lips move. I don’t mean that in a sensual way, either, and it’s not a pickup line. I’m happier when you’re around and when you open up to me. I’m glad you feel comfortable doing it. When you told me what happened to you when you were a child in Guyana, that meant a lot to me and, as promised, I haven’t mentioned it to anyone else, nor will I.”

  We sat there in silence, staring at each other. I was not a trusting person, but maybe that could change. Marcella had kind of gotten to me during our last visit. That was why I had called Jonovan. An excursion to a private island off the coast of Norway was a bit over the top for a first date, but that was the life I was living. There was no reason to downplay my lifestyle to prevent him from being intimidated. If we did hook up, it would all become a part of his life as well. But could it ever work? I’d seen a lot of men who were extremely successful in their own right cave under the pressure of having a celebrity wife, and vice versa. The one big difference between some of my counterparts and me was that being famous was not a factor for me. I loved to create, sing and dance, and perform in front of crowds but, after that, I craved solitude.